Argonian (Mage) Account Book
by LemanRuss14
Summary: The adventures of a quirky argonian mage by the name of Craak-Boom.
1. Argonian (Mage) Account Book: Pt 1

Welcome!

This is short story I'm in the process of writing about a character in _The Elder Scrolls: Skyrim_ that I created by the name of Craak-Boom. This is the account of his adventures.

The rating is "T" because the story contains light profanity and violence that may ramp up in later installments, but should remain suitable for anyone the age 13+.

This is my first time posting anything like this on here, so **please** let me know if there are any grammatical errors, misspellings, or anything that might distract for you from your reading experience. I've been updating the story touching up mistakes fairly frequently, and if you leave a review I will try to get back to you within the week.

Enjoy!

* * *

Craak-Boom readied himself as he approached the final stretch of his long climb. He simply had to hoist himself over this final boulder and he'd have finally reached the summit of the waterfall.

_ Easier said than done, _he thought struggling to hear himself think over the deafening roar of crashing water.

He was exhausted from the long climb; his muscle tensed and ached as he lifted himself closer to his goal. Craak reminded himself (not for the first time) why he was doing this as he dangled precariously from the side of the cliff. Indeed, in a land of beauty this waterfall was exceptional: The way that it towered over Skyrim, its life providing water glistening in the setting sun as it plummeted into the fertile valleys of Eastmarch. Craak-Boom had seen it several times in his travels, each time vowing to drink from the water at its peak, and here he was was making good on his word much to his chagrin. Steeling himself, Craak took a deep breath and swung his arm up and over the edge of the mountain finding purchase in the deep grooves of the rock. Satisfied with his grip, he summoned all of his remaining strength, and with a grunt swung the rest of his body over the side of the cliff. When he was safely over Craak rolled onto his back panting and wheezing; he rested there a considerable time too tired to move.

After a much needed moment of respite Craak slowly picked himself up and gazed over the cliff's edge, struggling to fight the creeping sense of vertigo. The view did not disappoint: It was a good ten story drop from where he began, Craak could see all of Eastmarch from here all the way to the City of Windhelm. It was just a cluster of lights on the horizon.

_Not many friendly faces there, _He thought lazily. _Windhelm is __**thick**__ with Nordic customs and prejudices._

These things did not bode well for Craak-Boom, Dragonborn or not.

In fact, he suspected that was the only reason they tolerated his presence within the city limits at all. This policy did not make him popular with the other Argonians slaving down in the docks. It's not like he enjoyed the special treatment - by the Hist - if it were up to him he'd throw Jarl Ulfric, leader of Windhelm, and the Stormcloak rebellion into a dungeon to rot for the rest of his days. Alas, when Craak wasn't gallivanting around or honing his sorcery at the College of Winterhold he'd been trying (futilely some might say) to mediate a peace between the misguided Stormcloaks and the Imperials. Being a foreigner gave him a unique point of view when it came to the war in Skyrim. Craak-Boom he found himself sympathizing with the ideals and beliefs that both sides stood for (for the most part) despite the foolish nature of the war itself. It was all a massive waste in his eyes, the people of Skyrim need to focus against the **real** threat:

The Thalmor.

Their Radical Altmer ideology poses a threat to all the non-elvish races of Nirn. Of course he could never mention that at a political gathering; he'd instantly be labeled a traitor and be sentenced to death **if** he was lucky. Craak-Boom sighed to himself; Being the Dragonborn gave his voice some weight when it came to these matters, but not nearly enough he was beginning to think. He smirked, fondly recalling the faces of Nordic nobility when they first discovered that their prophesied warrior of legend was a "stinking lizard outsider".

_It would appear that Akatosh has a sense of humor..._

The last of the sun's light had set over the horizon when he realized how parched he was. He considered taking a swig of his skin of ale, but decided to make good on his promise to himself. Shaking off thoughts of the war he knelt beside the running water of the falls peak to get a drink. The water cupped within his hands was frigid (as was all water in Skyrim), but nevertheless it was good to have some moisture on his scales again. He caught a glimpse of himself in the moonlight as he slurped the refreshing water down.

He appeared to be a fairly typical young Argonian male: He stood about 5' 8", but despite his modest height he was fairly fit, his reward for constant need of travel and physical exertion. His face was complete with a a pair of short bony horns sprouting from his forehead, a patch of crimson under his chin that lead down his neck (a mark of youth, something he'd been fairly self conscious of), and finally a matching feathery crest that contrasted strikingly with his dark emerald green scales, and light blue eyes. The only outstanding features he possessed was three claw marks scarred above the brow of his left eye that ending just above his snout. The unfortunate result of a run-in with some of Skyrim's wildlife, and a constant reminder to never let your guard down in this untamed land.

Once Craak-Boom decided his thirst had been quenched he splashed a few handfuls onto his reptilian face. Feeling accomplished and rejuvenated he got up to make camp for the night when he noticed something strange in the cliff face; half submerged in the water was a door, its black metallic surface reflecting the pale moonlight.

Craak-Boom's brow furrowed at the implications of such an oddly placed door.

_Who built this thing here? Does it predate the falls? _

Craak eagerly waded into the icy water wincing as it made contact with his flesh. Craak reached the door finding it to be cold and clammy to the touch.

_Perhaps made of ebony?_

He noticed it also had some strange carvings etched into it.

_Interesting, _he thought to himself as he ran his fingers through the jagged grooves._ The designs are different than the circular Nordic patterns found in burial tombs that frequent the countryside around here._

In contrast, the design on the door had an almost malevolent quality to it. Its wicked carvings had sharp angles that raked through the metallic door in cruel patterns; just looking at it made Craak-Boom feel uneasy. He tried pushing against it, but the door wouldn't budge.

_Damn, the water currents are keeping the door shut..._

He stood there a moment cursing to himself knowing full well he didn't have the strength to force open the door. After some deliberation he decided to tap into his magic reserves and ready a personal favorite spell of his: telekinesis. He concentrated, and then with a hand gesture the door slowly began to push open, groaning in defiance as it began to submit to his magical prowess. Water soon began gushing out of the new opening in the reluctant door. Veins bulged from Craak's neck and brow as he struggled to keep it from slamming shut. Craak knew he had to get through quickly. He began sloshing through the heavy current, moving as quickly as he could while trying to keep concentration. Just before the spell shattered he made a desperate leap. Craak-Boom landed just within the door, landing face down in a shallow stream of water. Exhaling, he allowed his arms to plosh at his sides which was quickly accompanied by the hollow boom of the door returning to its inert state.

Inside the darkness was absolute. With a wave of his hand Craak conjured a ball of magical light that danced around his head causing the darkness to retreat back into the depths of the cave. Craak couldn't shake off a feeling of foreboding, and readied some basic destruction magic just in case. He considered turning back, but he was curious now and his wanderlust took hold. Cautiously, Craak-Boom ventured deeper into the cave. He followed the water current through a narrow damp and dark chasm, taking his time on the uneven slick surface. There was a faint light as he neared the end of it; he rounded the corner of the chasm as it opened up into an enormous, open cavern. On the far side of this new, open space was a roaring waterfall emitting a lazy mist that lay low to the damp rock. The light that he'd seen before seemed to emanate from a species of glowing fungi that grew out of the jagged rocky walls and ceiling. These mushroom cast a pale bluish light on everything, that while beautiful, also seemed oddly oppressive in the depths of the cavern. Craak snatched a particularly large one of the glowing mushrooms that hung nearby; it was spongy to the touch, and retained its glow even when detached from the stem. Craak stashed it in one of his many pockets that hid within his robes to examine later. He had just looked back up when he heard something shift; a pebble perhaps, followed by a faint splash.

The sound resonated throughout the cave for what felt like ages as Craak quietly extinguished his light. He remained completely still, his Argonian eyes frantically searching for the source. His muscles had finally began to relax when he heard it again,

but this time it came from behind.

Craak-Boom spun around just in time to see an eyeless white emaciated form lunging at him. He sprang backwards in horror, but too late. The chitinous blade the creature wielded raked across his side leaving a deep gash. With a hiss Crack-Boom staggered and lost his footing on the slick mossy covered rock, falling backwards into the shallow water. The beast quickly scurried over him it's gaunt face grinning in sadistic glee, raising its wicked sword to land the fatal blow.

"**FUS!**"

Water sprayed everywhere as the simple dragon shout forced his would-be-killer off balance; Craak took the opportunity to sweep its legs out from under it. Craak-Boom took the opportunity to lift himself to one knee, his blue eyes gleaming intensely in the faint light.

"Not today, Falmer!"

Craak's hands leapt outward, frost erupting from his fingertips. The Falmer's shriek tapered off as it slowly began to resemble a block of ice. Craak continued blasting it until he slowly realized that the fight was over. He let his arms drop lamely to his sides, his heart racing. He decided to take a good look at the Falmer for the first time. The half naked creature was malnourished, it's lanky limbs bore many cuts and bruises that spoke of a lifetime of abuse. The ice preserved a gaunt face that was almost pitiable: It's sunken useless eyes devoid of life, it's dagger filled mouth frozen in an expression of agony.

_What could produce such a thing? _He thought to himself as he attempted to stand grimacing at the pain spiking through his clenched wounded side.


	2. Argonian (Mage) Account Book: Pt 2

Last time our hero just barely survived a Falmer attack in a cave he was exploring.

In this episode Craak-Boom meets a friendly face.

* * *

Craak-Boom was wishing he spent more time studying the school of Restoration and less time shooting firebolts at bottles as he hovered a shaky skin of ale over his wounded side. Craak-Boom winced as the stinging liquid disinfected the deep gash as watered-down blood retreated from his wound. He corked the remaining contents, but not before taking a healthy swig for himself. Craak placed the skin besides his discarded robe which was neatly folded atop the driest rock he could find. He had been lucky, the Falmer's crude weapon seemed to have missed anything vital much to Craak-Boom's delight, but despite his luck he was having a hard time remembering how to cast one of the most basic healing spells. Adrenaline was still coursing through his veins making it hard to concentrate. He knew he had to hurry to stop the bleeding, he wasn't sure if there were more Falmer around, and he wasn't too keen on passing out in this cave.

"Okay, okay, think."

Craak-Boom took a deep breath remembering his breathing exercises in an attempt to calm his nerves. He blocked out the sound of rushing water, even his own breathing, until all he could hear was the steady rhythm of his own heart. Concentrating, Craak-Boom placed a hand over his side, and with some difficulty he conjured a warm, soothing light from his hand. Sighing with relief he watched his rended side slowly knit itself back together.

_That's going to leave a scar..._

In fact, glancing over his exposed chest and back he noted there was a map of ugly scars, bruises, bent and cracked scales, some of which he didn't even recognize.

_I should've never left Cyrodiil. _he thought wryly tugging his robe back over his body before reclaiming his belongings.

It was then Craak-Boom quickly considered his next course of action: He could go back the way he came and warn the nearby mining settlement of Darkwater Crossing, maybe even go to the Jarl of Windhelm for assistance, but immediately dismissed the idea.

_Even if I could get an audience with Ulfric, **and** convince him of the threat he'd just feed me some nonsense about the war effort and not enough spare men._

It was no secret that Ulfric shared no love for the Dragonborn. As far as Craak-Boom was concerned the feeling was very much mutual, he spat in frustration. As Craak-Boom mulled this over he began to hear movement over the rushing water coming from atop the waterfall. He glanced up just in time to see three Falmer notching arrows a few stories above him.

Craak-Boom dove for a nearby stalagmite arrows whizzing overhead.

_How in Oblivion do they even know where I am?_

Craak-Boom angled the rock formation between him and the three archers.

_I'm no scholar, but they don't seem to have eyes!_

He growled to himself while taking a step to peer around the rock formation.

***Splosh***

Craak-Boom quickly ducked back into cover as arrows ricocheted off the damp rock.

_Of course, their blindness must have given them an acute sense of hearing _he deducted.

_Well, lets give them something to listen to!_

Craak-Boom picked a pebble off the ground and threw it a few feet away clattering loudly against the cave wall. Just as he hoped the sound of three arrows bouncing uselessly off of rock accompanied it.

_Now's my chance!_

Craak-Boom spun around the stalagmite fireball in hand.

"Have one of these!"

The fireball flung from his hands aimed at the center of the trio with the intention of incinerating all three, but alas, perhaps it was the ale he drank earlier, or maybe it was the blood-loss, but the fireball flew high missing entirely. It might have been his imagination, but he could almost make out the center one smirking in the dim pale-blue light.

"Shit."

The fireball exploded harmlessly above the intended target with a thunderous boom, briefly illuminating the smirking Falmer bowmen with an ominous orange aura. Craak's mind raced in an attempt to remember a warding spell as the cocky creature trained it's crude bow on him. Craak winced expecting to be skewered at any moment.

But that moment never came:

A stalactite dislodged by the blast smashed into the murderous Falmer reducing it to pulp before it could loose its arrow.

Craak-Boom blinked, dumbstruck. There was an awkward moment of silence before the remaining two Falmer started shrieking as the rest ceiling started to collapse.

_What was that Nordic phrase? Out of the frying pan and into the cauldron?_ he asked himself as he sprinted for safety.

Large boulders crashed uncomfortably close around him spraying icy water in all directions. It was hard to see where he was going in all of the chaos, but just ahead of him he could make out a dimly illuminated passage. Figuring it was his only hope, Craak b-lined for it, stumbling and splashing the entire way.

Craak flung himself through the threshold just in time to narrowly avoid being crushed to death as the passage behind him collapsed. Craak-Boom chest rose and fell rapidly as he attempted to calm his nerves.

_Probably should avoid using that spell from now on..._

Craak-Boom picked himself off the ground, running his scaly hand through his feathery crest as he observed the now blocked off passage.

"No going back now." he groaned, casting another light above his head illuminating the new room with bluish arcane light.

Unlike the previous "room" this one looked almost man-made, or perhaps Falmer-made. There were pillars of rocks in regular intervals that supported the ceiling, and rectangular cut-outs in the walls the purpose of which escaped Craak-Boom.

_Perhaps for sleeping, or storage? _Craak-Boom stroked his chin inquisitively.

_Are the Falmer capable of mining and construction, being blind as they are? It certainly doesn't resemble any work that I'm familiar with._

Shaking his head Craak-Boom decided he should press on before he met any other nasty surprises.

***Snap***

Craak froze mid-step as a chitinous spike plunged inches away from his unmentionables. Gulping Craak-Boom waited patiently while the the spike trap slowly receded into its original hiding place.

_Well, they're capable of creating tripwires!_ he laughed breathlessly to himself as he daintily stepped over the trap that nearly neutered him.

"Hello!?" a raspy masculine voice asked desperately.

Craak-Boom jumped, almost falling backwards onto the spike. The voice called again:

"Is someone there? I'm trapped!"

"Ah, yes!" He stuttered, trying to regain his composure. He scanned the room with his eyes, realizing he couldn't find the origin of the disembodied voice.

"Um, where are you?"

"Down here!" The voice called back.

Craak-Boom took a few tentative steps forward, his light illuminating a metallic grate in the floor below which held, as fate would have it a fellow Argonian.


	3. Argonian (Mage) Account Book: Pt 3

"By the Hist, You're a sight for sore eyes! It sounded like the place was coming down. Was that you?"

The blue light cast from Craak-Boom's orb revealed the figure residing below in the cylindrical pit standing in ankle deep water. Looking down he could make out through the grid-like shadow a pair of pale green eyes squinting back at him. Unlike himself the fellow Argonian's horns were somewhat more developed and ram-like curving in on themselves, he also lacked the colorful patch under his chin, and the feathery plumage Craak-possessed. He guessed that the captive was a few years older than himself. The figure was simply dressed in what probably once was a white linen tunic now soaked and clinging to his well-defined body all the while giving the faint impression of the dark green scales underneath. Thankfully, the captive's dark trousers did a more admirable job of hiding his anatomy he thought briefly before realizing that he'd been staring.

"Er, yes. Don't worry though, it was completely intentional." Craak looked away rubbing the back of his neck.

"And the trap..?"

"Enough about me," he replied his feathery crest bristling. "How long have you been down there?"

The shadowy captive paused momentarily thinking:

"I'm not sure," he admitted with a weary shrug. "It's hard to keep track of time down here... One or two day's maybe? Say, are you going to get me out of here or not?"

_Why would they take a live prisoner?_ Craak-Boom wondered absently to himself.

"Who are you anyways? How did you get here?"

"Listen," the captives raspy voice exclaimed, anxious. "I'll gladly answer all your questions once you get me out of here!"

"Oh, right!" Craak said nodding as he looked around.

"How do I do that?"

The captive's tail flicked impatiently:

"Their leader, a shaman of sorts," He remarked with a vague wave of his hand, "she had the key when they locked me in here. You'll find her deeper inside, she has a makeshift..." he struggled to come up with the word "...a laboratory?" He suddenly adopted a dour tone. "I've seen them take other captives down there. They've never come back..."

"There are others here too?" Craak winced picturing helpless prisoners being crushed to death by his little 'fireball accident'.

"There used to be, I haven't seen any in quite some time. I think I might be the last one left."

"I see..." Craak silently breathed a sigh of relief and instantly felt guilty for it.

"Well, I'll be back." He said turning.

"Hold a moment!"

Craak stopped.

The captive hesitated a moment before speaking.

"You wouldn't happen to have any food, would you? They don't feed us…" His eyes focused on the stone wall ahead of him. He seemed uncomfortable asking, as if not used to accepting charity.

"Yeah, of course!" He felt bad for not thinking of offering sooner as he unclipped his pockets and rummaged through them. "I'm afraid I've just got travel food, nothing too tasty…" He remarked as his hand brushed past his newly acquired mushroom sample and grabbed a bundle of dried fruit wrapped in linen before drawing it out and tossing it to him.

The captive deftly caught the dried fruit in his right hand. "Thanks you, marsh-friend." He said throatily before continuing. "I'm in your debt."

"Think nothing of it." To his amazement the captive didn't immediately tear open the food, though he was certainly eyeing it, his hand trembling.

"Another thing you should know before you go," The captive said eyes returning to his. "their shaman possesses powerful magic, and she's bound to be there. Be careful."

He nodded appreciatively. "Nothing I can't handle." He said unsure whether he was trying to convince the prisoner or himself as he made his way out.

"I hope you're right, for my sake…" As crack boom continued down the dark chasm he could make out the sound of enthusiastic eating.

Craak-Boom had thought about his past encounters with the Falmer and decided that perhaps a stealthier approach was warranted. Craak recalled his teachings in the school of illusion (a field he's not particularly gifted in) and prepared the spell "Muffle". He concentrated, channeling his energy towards the soles of his feet (something that took him considerable time to achieve back in Winterhold), and when he felt that he had it he created a parchment-thin layer barrier between his feet and the ground that would trap all sound effectively muting his footsteps as he stumbled his way deeper into the mountain. An interesting, albeit annoying at times side effect of the spell is that as he took steps small amounts of magical residue would remain at the site of contact briefly leaving a blue wispy foot-print. Usually this is a problem if you're trying to remain undetected, but in this instance it shouldn't matter against Craak's optically impaired adversaries.

Magical preparation complete, he wondered if he'd be able to find this shaman. So far the path before him, while winding, luckily also had also been fairly linear.

_At least I won't get lost in this Divine forsaken place._

Ahead of him in the distant inky blackness he could hear a cacophony of slapping footsteps, and guttural squawks, distantly at first, but rapidly gaining intensity as it approached. Panicking, Craak-Boom extinguished his light and pressed himself flat against the damp wall just in time to avoid a throng of Falmer brandishing their chitinous weapons as they scrabbled past him.

_They must've heard the cave-in. _he silently reprimanded himself again as the horde squeezed past him in the dark narrow passageway. _I hope that prisoner will be alright, I never did get his name._

There seemed to be no end of them, but thankfully none of the Falmer rushing past seemed to take any notice of him. A few even brushed up against him in their haste, but they must've assumed he was another Falmer because no one stopped to skewer him.

Craak was beginning to believe that he was actually going to make it when one of the stragglers slowed to a stop near him curiously sniffing at the air.

If Craak-Boom could he would've started sweating profusely as the pale creature slowly closed the gap between them. It took considerable effort to suppress the urge to run when the creature started sniffing mere inches away from his face, its yellow dagger like teeth clicking together menacingly. Worriedly Craak-Boom noticed, judging from its expression, that he must smell quite good as he quietly readied a spell in his hands.

A series of guttural barks coming from Falmer horde made the creature's head snap in its direction. It stared into the dark abyss… then back at Craak-Boom. It stood there for what seemed like an eternity rather indecisively only to give a frustrated grunt as it finally loped after its companions.

Craak-Boom waited for the creature to leave earshot before exhaling, realizing that he'd been holding his breath as he greedily refilled his lungs.

_By the Hist that was close!_

He detached himself from the wall and re-conjured his ball of light before continuing eager to put some distance him and the throngs of Falmer.


End file.
